Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
LIVVY
“Hey, Sweetie,” my landlady, Tish, called, coming out on the porch as I headed up the driveway from where I’d parked my old Honda Civic at the curb.
“Hey,” I called, altering my course and heading toward her. “What’s up?”
She held up a letter by the corner and wiggled it at me. “This got mixed in with our mail from a few days ago, and I didn’t realize it until today. I hope it wasn’t too important. I’m sorry about that.”
Relief filled me at the sight of that business sized white envelope. I’d thought maybe Byron wasn’t going to write back, because this letter had taken a lot longer than the last one.
“If it’s what I think it is, it’s just a personal letter from my soldier overseas,” I told her. “It’s all cool.”
“Your soldier overseas?” she said, flipping the envelope so she could read it. “Do tell. All this time, I just thought you were shy and that’s why you never go out.”
Shoot, she’d noticed that?
“I guess it’s because you have a mister in the military,” she added before I could answer.
“Um, yeah, sure,” I said. Then realized how much I wanted that to be true. Was it pathetic that I was feeling something for Byron after a couple chatty correspondences back and forth? Something with him was just clicking.
Smiling, Tish held out the letter. “I’ll bet you’ve been anxious for this, then.”
“I have. Thank you for catching me.”
“Of course, sweetie. Oh…so, we’ve been meaning to ask you. You graduate in May, right?”
I nodded. “Fingers crossed. As long as all goes to plan.”
“And what are your plans after that?”
Truly, I hadn’t thought that far. “Probably moving back to be near my family. But not until June.”
She nodded. “Okay. Jim and I were just wondering if we’d need to be getting ready for another renter. You’ve been a dream. It’ll be sad for us when you go.”
“I’ll miss you, too,” I told her. “But…we still have a little while yet, right?”
“Right, you’re right.” She smiled broadly. “See you later. I’ll let you get to your man there.” She winked quickly then nodded toward my letter.
I nearly ran up the steps to my place, and minutes later, dropped everything to the floor and plopped onto the couch, envelope in hand while I stared at the bold writing on it.
Byron…
I ripped it open and read with a wide smile. He loved the cookies. Yay! And…
A picture? Oh God… He wanted a picture?
Why? I’d already told him what I looked like. What if I sent a pic and he never wrote back? I’d have to assume it was because he didn’t like what he’d seen. That would be a kick in the ego, because I was finding I really, really liked him.
But if he wanted a photo…
Despite being concerned that I’d scare him away, I already knew that I’d send one. I didn’t want to disappoint him. But what if he didn’t like it and never wrote back? Then I guess I’d get more out of this class project than expected. Learning about attraction and loss… I’d only signed on for three letters, and he knew that. Thing was, if he wrote back, I had no intention of stopping my messages.
Determined, I dug through my phone looking for a decent pic. I found a couple cute selfies of me and one photo of me and my siblings. I wasn’t sure why I felt as if I should send those to him, but I sent them to the drugstore to be printed in their photo center.
My mind whirled with what to write him this time. I wasn’t ready to commit anything to paper, so I headed to the store and picked up the stuff to make more cookies. His letter gave me the excuse to bake, and I was taking it. A killer batch of oatmeal raisin coming up. Man could not live on Choco-chunk alone, even if my little brother seemed to think so.
An hour later, I was home with the pictures and the second tray of cookies was in the oven. Time to write that letter burning inside me.
Dear Byron,
Okay, I know you said that no other cookie would pass your lips, but I hope you’ll try these. If you must stay true to your vow, go ahead and share them. I sent two dozen of my special oatmeal raisin. I told you I love to bake. I wasn’t kidding. If I wasn’t going to be a teacher, I surely would have become a baker.
I’m glad you know some Duran Duran. I can keep on writing to you, then. As for your question… I wasn’t kidding in my first letter when I said that I have never had a boyfriend. Never have and at the rate I’m going, probably never will. So you’re safe from any guy coming after you. Well, any guy who’s dating me anyway…’cause, yeah, none. But my brothers are all very protective. So no promises about them. They’re in one of the pictures, so you’ll know who I’m talking about. I’m easy to pick out in that photo—if you can’t figure it out from the other two pics. I’m the only girl. Yeah… I have eight brothers. Since you’re surrounded by men there, I’m assuming, you probably know that was just great for me. Six of them are older than me…
Come to think of it, maybe that’s why I’ve never had a boyfriend.
And… changing the subject. Are you a coffee drinker? I love coffee. There’s a shop in the bookstore where I work. Thank goodness we get free drinks or that would defeat the purpose of me working there. #CoffeeAddict.
Before I forget…I am so sorry it’s taken me so long to write back to you. Your letter got mixed up with my landlord’s mail and I just got it today. In case there’s a long delay again, please know that I intend to keep writing. I enjoy “talking” to you!
Please stay safe and I’m looking forward to hearing from you again.
Livvy
PS: three pics enclosed. I’d sure like one of you.
After I sealed the envelope, I thought about him, trying to envision what he looked like while reading my letters. What was it like there? Was he in a lot of danger? That made my blood run cold. I couldn’t stand the thought of that, even though I knew he was a soldier and that was the job. Even more, I wondered what it would be like to talk to him face-to-face. I wanted that more than I felt comfortable admitting. How had I possibly fallen for this guy? So fast?
I shook my head at myself, hearing my mom’s voice as she told me not to dig so deep into things. She always said, sometimes something just is what it is and you have to accept it.
“Okay, Mom. I’m letting what happens happen,” I murmured, heading into the kitchen to switch batches. No need to borrow trouble or count chickens, and I was apt to do both. Instead, I’d just keep writing to Byron and see what happened.
When I eventually went to bed, I dreamed of a faceless soldier and felt more at peace than I had in a long time.